


lucky

by a_static_world



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, TFATWS - Freeform, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV) Trailers, i love them, in a very soft way, so much, soft and sweet, they're boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28082160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_static_world/pseuds/a_static_world
Summary: “Did it hurt when-”“I fell from heaven? Original, Barnes.”“No, smartass. When you fell in the parking lot earlier.”Sam winces. Listen. It’s one thing to get used to flying at breakneck speeds thousands of feet in the air. Becoming reacquainted with the ground is a completely separate ordeal.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 154





	lucky

“Did it hurt when-”

“I fell from heaven? Original, Barnes.”

“No, smartass. When you fell in the parking lot earlier.”

Sam winces. Listen. It’s one thing to get used to flying at breakneck speeds thousands of feet in the air. Becoming reacquainted with the ground is a completely separate ordeal, and besides, there had been a pothole. Bucky snorts into his beer bottle, evidently amused by...something.   
“What is it, cyborg?”

“Did’ja think I was hittin’ on you, sweetheart?”

Sam’s ears burn, the effect of Bucky’s words nearly instantaneous. He gets this Brooklyn drawl, sometimes, and it drives Sam outta his fuckin’ head. It got stronger when Steve was around; the two of them would get to talking like it was still nineteen-fuckin-forty-five. Now Sam only hears it when Bucky’s being a little shit, which does nothing to help his blood pressure. 

“‘Course I didn’t, asshole.”

Maybe if he drinks this beer nonchalantly enough Bucky will buy the lie. He had, in fact, thought Bucky was hitting on him. It wouldn’t be the first time; they have an ongoing back-and-forth of sweetly disguised antagonism. If Bucky’s the first to make coffee in the mornings, he’ll hand Sam his cup with “here ya are, darlin’,” and three times out of four he’ll have put almond milk in instead of half-and-half. Sam shrinks Bucky’s sweaters just a little in the wash, ignoring the way they cling to the man’s biceps as he musses his hair in the wrong direction. It’s a routine they set up in...wherever they went, after the Snap, to keep from going crazy. 

And now they’re fucking  _ living together _ , in what Sam loathes to describe as a plantation house. They fixed it up together after the whole Thanos debacle, painting walls and finishing floors and tearing out and putting back until the thing was livable.  _ Very  _ The Notebook,  _ isn’t it _ ? And oh, doesn’t he wish his brain would just shut the fuck up sometimes. He takes another swig of his beer - warm, now - and chances a look at Bucky.

Mistake! 

Damn it, Wilson, get a grip. Bucky is, of course, staring directly back at him, gaze level and steely as always. He quirks a brow, and something about the whole situation causes Sam to bust up. It’s fucking hysterical, really. He’s probably in love with his roommate, a centennial assassin with scar tissue for a brain and a toaster for an arm. Fucking  _ wonderful _ . And it’s not even the craziest thought he’s had this  _ month _ . (That one goes to the time Bucky decided to cook stir fry on Cap’s shield like it was a wok, and Sam had the fleeting thought that out of all he’d survived, undercooked chicken would be the cause of his death.)

When he can finally catch his breath, Sam tips the neck of his beer bottle towards Bucky, who looks equal parts concerned and amused. 

“That trick must’ve gotten you all the ladies, back in the day.” He teases, quirking his eyebrow in a mockery of Bucky’s earlier move. Bucky grins back, tipping his own bottle so the necks clink together softly.

“And the gents, too,” he drawls, tipping an imaginary hat. Sam’s seen the photos; it’s not hard to imagine Bucky in his service uniform, tipping his hat at everyone he passes. It sends a little shiver down his spine, if he’s honest, and he brings his bottle back up to his mouth only to find it empty. 

“Must’ve been quite the rake, then, huh?” Sam moves to the fridge, grabbing two more beers and a container of cut-up honeydew his Ma dropped off the other day. Being settled this close to family has its perks, fresh fruit being one of them.

He sits back down as Bucky’s draining his beer, sticking his tongue out to catch the last drops as they fall from the rim. Indecent, really, and Sam barely manages to stop himself from dropping the tupperware of fruit.  _ Christ, _ he’s beautiful. Backlit by the sunset filtering through their gauzy kitchen curtains, hair slightly longer than it had been when he hacked it all off in a fit of nightmare-induced paranoia.  _ They can’t find me if I don’t look like him _ , Bucky’d said, and Sam’s heart clenches just remembering it. How Bucky had screamed at the top of his lungs, words spilling off the tip of his tongue in a mix of Russian and English.

Sam shakes himself, pops open the cap of his beer on the table just like his dad used to. Bucky’s as lost in thought as he just was, so Sam allows himself a few more moments of gazing. They exist here, in this weird little liminal space. Those few hours between dusk and sunset, where the sun just hovers in the sky, bathing everything in golden light. Nobody’s looking for them; nobody expects them to be Cap’n’Bucky, not yet. They’re lucky, Sam thinks. Everybody gets this kinda peace once in their lives; they’re lucky to get more. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Sam’s eyes refocus to find Bucky, once again, staring back at him with those goddamn x-ray blue eyes. There’s crow’s feet around his eyes, and Sam finds he’s pleased to see them. Not everything is HYDRA’s.  _ Take the plunge, Sam. _

“Just thinkin’ about that pretty face, is all. Looks like you’re glowing, what with the sun all,” he waves the freshly-opened beer for emphasis, “like that.”

Bucky grins, toothy and wide open. He picks up a piece of melon, gesturing at Sam with it. 

“You hittin’ on  _ me _ , now, doll?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay.”

And that’s it. There’s no passionate kiss, no fanfare, no opening of the heavens to bathe them in light. It’s simple, and when Bucky reaches for Sam’s hand, he lets him take it. It’s what they  _ need _ , right now. Reassurance that someone is there, someone loves them, no matter whether it’s spoken or not. 

They fall asleep that night tangled on the couch, halfway through  _ The Notebook _ , and Sam lets his eyes fall shut with the distinct feeling that there’s nobody he’d rather hold. 

**Author's Note:**

> hello? this fandom on?  
> i just. oh boy. the last week has been Eventful. and by eventful i mean the tfatws trailer dropped and supernatural continues to happen and i got to watch louis tomlinson live in concert, so! eventful is the word we're going with.   
> i hope everyone is having a good holiday season, and if holidays are rough for you, i wish you a very pleasant december month.  
> wear your masks, stay hydrated, and be kind to people. message me on [tumblr](https://astaticworld.tumblr.com/) if you need a chat or a distraction <3  
> xoxo static


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